Forgive me for I have sinned
by Maijajo
Summary: My first case fic with DL on the side. Rated T for later chapters to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people. _

_**Rating:** T, not for this chapter, but for the overall fic, just to be safe. _

_**Author's note:** Okay, guys. Bear with me. It's my first foray into a crime fic. DL lovers, our favorite couple will still be front and center. This chapter was necessary for setup._

**Forgive me for I have sinned …**

**_Chapter 1_**

Father Sean Mulcahy stifled a yawn. It was near the end of a particularly tedious four-hour block during which he heard confessions at St. Thomas's. He was particularly weary after the 20-minute weekly session with Thelma Phillips, one of his long-winded parishioners.

"Oh, Father, I know Harriet – McHenry, the one with all the makeup – is a God-fearing woman and all, but she was all over Truman Alderson. It was shameless, shameless! Especially for a woman of her advanced age!" Widow McHenry was 76, Mrs. Phillips was 74. "Anyway, even though she was practically crawling inside his suit with him, I shouldn't think such nasty thoughts. I ask the Lord's forgiveness."

A litany of gossip and grievances disguised as confessions followed, and he sent her on her way with a few Hail Marys and Our Fathers. Hopefully, Mrs. Phillips was his last confessor of mundane sins. Father Sean sighed – he could hear the opposite door opening and readied himself.

"Um, bless me father, for I have sinned. It's been – like – 10 years since my last confession." The man's voice sounded artificially deep, like he was masking his true identity. The priest's interest was peaked – this was somewhat common, and it was fun to figure out who the would-be anonymous parishioners were.

"What can I do for you, my son?" He had a feeling he was going to hear a doozy.

"Well, you know, there's always those impure thoughts, picturing some of my hot coworkers in Victoria's Secret's finest. But Father, I went ahead and did it – premarital sex – up, down and sideways."

Father Sean brow furrowed with concentration. The voice sounded familiar. "Do you regret your actions?"

"Well, kind of. Problem is, I went out the next night in search of more – I couldn't help myself. After 3 women I still wasn't satisfied. I tried redheads, blonds, then … well … there were the collies."

Sean choked. "The collies?"

"Yeah, I found a couple near my apartment, and they were just so … cute!" the man's voice, now more than familiar – busted into laughter. "And they were just yelping! It was so sexy!"

"Dammit, Messer!!!!!" Sean bolted out of his cubicle to face Danny Messer, his friend from childhood. "You are such an ass!"

Luckily, at this late hour, no one remained in the sanctuary to hear his profanity. He couldn't hold back a grin as he pulled his old friend in for a hug. He and Danny had been thick as thieves growing up in Queens. Ironically, Sean often got into more trouble than Danny. Fortunately, his own parish priest, Father Andrew McPatrick, had set him on his path.

"You know, I was in the neighborhood at a scene and I thought I'd stop by on the way home," Danny was saying.

"Isn't it kind of late to be finishing up?" Sean asked, noting that it was 9 p.m.

His friend shook his head. "Dead prostitute – all of 17. Stabbed to death – not pretty, and a lot of evidence to collect. Her name was Sheila Carson, originally from Iowa. Her parents are flying out tomorrow – it seems Sheila left to become a sensation on Broadway a couple of years ago – ended up in a dumpster of 14th Street instead."

Sean echoed Danny's sadness. "A familiar story. I've heard it many times."

"Yeah, well, I've finished for the night – Stella took the stuff back to the lab so I could head home. You done here?"

"Yeah, actually. You in for a drink?

Danny feigned shock. "You want to go to a bar?"

Sean chuckled. "No. But any good Irish priest has his stash. C'mon."

A short time later, Danny and Sean were settled on the screened-in back porch of the rectory, tossing back some Bass Ale, discussing old times … and new ones.

"So, Messer, what's new? Or should I say who?"

Danny shifted. He and Sean had discussed the puzzle known as Lindsay Monroe before. "She came back from the trial last week. They got a conviction. She's … okay. We're kind of back where we started. You know, flirting, joking around. Nothing more." He sighed.

"Not enough, huh?" Sean nodded in understanding.

"I don't know. Sometimes it seems like she's waiting for me to do something, sometimes there's a wall … I don't know what to do. There's something a big part of me wants, and I'm not sure how to get it without screwing it up. Like, there's a beautiful vase on a high shelf, with no stool near by. If you reach high enough, you might just be able to reach it and cherish it. You grab in the wrong way, and the whole thing shatters. Boom."

Father Sean silently marvels at this new, introspective Danny. "What about the other part of you?"

"Oh, that guy? He wants to run away, right into the arms of some bar slut to forget my troubles. That Danny's a very bad boy, and the crap thing of it is, I know he will never been happy. You're the priest, what do I do?"

Laughing, Sean clapped his friend on the shoulder. "You definitely have more experience than I do in the chick arena, Messer. But seriously, watch and wait for awhile. Look for her cues. She'll tell you what you need to know."

"I hope so," Danny sighed, and decided to change the subject. "Now I just gotta find out what happened to Sheila from Iowa." Flipping out his cell, he pulls up the victim's mug shot the precinct sent.

A quick glance at the photo elicits a shocked gasp from Feather Sean. "Oh no. Not Sunshine."

Danny's eyes narrow at his friend's shocked expression. "Who?"

"Sunshine. That's the name she went by. I knew her, Danny. I knew that poor girl."

**_To be continued …_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people. _

_**Rating:** T, not for this chapter, but for the overall fic, just to be safe. _

_**Author's note:** Chapter two. I know the first was a little boring. I hope I add some excitement. _

**Forgive me for I have sinned …**

**_Chapter 2_**

_He watched them from the edge of an alleyway across the street, fingering the prize in his pocket, much like the faithful with their rosary beads. For him, this souvenir was a religious relic, and as he watched the scene unfold before him, he felt blessed by God. Who else would bring his plan full circle?_

"You know Sheila Carson?" Danny asked incredulously. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I never knew her real name," Father Sean sighed, head in his hands. "We're in the lower section of Queens, Danny. We get a lot of lost souls in here."

His friend rubbed his face wearily. "So she's one of your flock? It doesn't go beyond that?"

"What? No, Danny. She would just slip in here sometimes. I would find her praying," he shook his head. "I tried to get her to tell me her real name, let me contact her parents, but she said she was too ashamed. I pushed once and she ran out – I didn't see her for at least two months. I never made that mistake again. I was gentle, hoping that eventually she would be ready to seek help."

Danny waved a hand. "You know what? That's enough for now. I gotta talk to Stella, and we'll probably be back in the morning."

Sean's brow furrowed. "What do you mean? What's wrong?"

"I gotta handle this carefully. I've been in hot water a few times on the job, and I can't do it again. I'm already on thin ice, and me knowing you when you're a witness could create a problem. It's probably best I let Stella and Mac deal with this."

Sean nodded. "Whatever you have to do."

"Look, just think about everything you know about her. Someone will be here to talk to you in the morning." With that, Danny bid him goodnight, taking with him a good dose of anxiety.

"Shit," he muttered. "I always managed to step in it."

On his way home, he dialed his partner's cell. "Yeah, Stella, it's me. You're not gonna believe this," he said, going on to explain his friend's connection to the victim. "I just thought I'd better let you or Flack handle the interview. You think Mac will take me off the case?"

Stella sighed. "I don't know Danny. We'll check with him in the morning. It's good you called, though. This isn't your fault, and letting us know from the get-go gives us a chance to do it right."

They bid each other good night, and Danny continued on his way. Once home, he noticed the light on his answering machine blinking. A quick check of the Caller I.D. revealed the call to be from Montana.

"I decided to call before I lost my nerve. As it is, I called your answering machine because I knew you wouldn't be there. Anyway, I was thinking I owe you for that dinner? You remember … I was thinking tomorrow night? Nuccio's? Ummm, 7? I'll meet you there. I promise."

He heard her sigh, followed by a rueful chuckle. "Who could blame you if you decided to leave me waiting this time? If you don't want to go, leave me a note or something. If you're going to tell me I'm too late, I'd rather read it than see it in your face. Anyway, maybe I'll see you tomorrow. Good night."

"Lindsay, you should know it will never be too late for me," he murmured, and went to bed with a smile on his face.

_The cop left the church, a worried expression on his face. He still couldn't believe his good fortune. God was truly smiling on him. When he arrived at St. Thomas's earlier to leave Father Sean his gift, he was shocked to see the man from dumpster, the one who had photographed that bitch mired in her coffin of filth._

_God no doubt enjoyed the symbolism of that place – He may not have been able to send the slut to hell personally, but a stinking dumpster was certainly a decent substitute until God himself could exercise his will and condemn her soul. Sunshine – how dare she call herself something that was a sign of God's light and salvation? And in that name, lie with men outside the sacred bonds of marriage?_

_Once again he cursed Father Sean Mulcahy, watching him disappear into the rectory. He was supposedly a man of God, yet he let sluts and the damned defile his church? Well, he knew his secrets, and he would make him pay, and he would have his own salvation._

_Humming, he went to the church and made quick work of the simple lock on the back door. He slipped into the sanctuary and moved silently to Father Sean's confessional, leaving his gift behind._

_May God have mercy on you, Father. You're going to need it before I'm done._

**_To Be Continued …_**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people_. 

_**Rating:** T, not for this chapter, but for the overall fic, just to be safe. _

_**Author's note:** A long one!! It seems my chapters grow as I go along. That does not bode well for chapter 236 ... JUST KIDDING!!!_

**Forgive me for I have sinned …**

**_Chapter 3_**

"Lord in Heaven." Father Sean Mulcahy said as he stared at the autopsy photo of Sheila Carson. Her face was badly beaten, the top of the Y-incision visible on the upper part of her chest. Fortunately the photo did not reveal the many stab wounds that marred her body.

"Is that the young woman you knew as Sunshine?" Det. Don Flack asked.

Finally gathering himself, Mulcahy answered: "Probably, but her face …"

"Perhaps you recognize these? She was wearing them when she was found." Stella Bonasera showed him an evidence bag with a crucifix and one long, beaded turquoise earring.

"Yes, both of those things I've seen her wear. She – " He cleared his throat. "She always wore that crucifix – she said it was her grandmother's – and the earrings, she said they brought out the blue in her eyes. She was always concerned about losing them."

"She lost one of them when she died," Stella murmured.

"Excuse me?"

"We only found one of them at the scene."

"How long would you say you've known the victim?" Flack asked, now convinced they were talking about the same woman. They were in Mulcahy's office off the main sanctuary. After a discussion with Mac earlier that morning, it was decided that Danny should be off the case to avoid any appearance of impropriety.

"She started coming in about, I don't know, 6 months ago? Right around Halloween. I remember the first time I saw her she had some skimpy cat costume on – she said it helped attract customers. I had the feeling she was trying to shock me, almost daring me to kick her out of the church."

"But of course you didn't," Stella surmised.

"No," Sean said, "I had the feeling the church was an ambivalent place for her. On one hand, it was a comfort – she believed in God, and was particularly interested in the forgiveness of sins. On the other hand, it was a place of shame. I had the impression her parents were strict, and used the church and God's wrath as tools to shame her."

"Did you talk about her parents?" Flack asked.

"Sometimes. I believe Sunsh – Sheila – knew she wasn't living a good life, and wanted a way out. She just didn't know how to go about extricating herself from it. I encouraged her to contact her parents, but she said she was dead to them, which I found hard to believe."

"Believe it," Stella broke in, her face betraying the anger she felt. "We contacted her parents – Roger and Althea Carson – and they refused to claim her body. They said they'd lost her years ago, when she turned to a life of sin."

Mulcahy opened his mouth, but found no response forthcoming, so he closed it again. A moment later, "That is not surprising, I suppose. She said her parents were devout, fire-and-brimstone Catholics. She felt more comfortable here. I guess St. Thomas's is considered somewhat of a newer breed of Catholic churches – one that is more forgiving, willing to help lost souls."

"Father Mulcahy, I'm sorry to have to ask you this," Flack said, "but did you have anything other than a priest-parishioner relationship with the victim? Did you ever meet with her outside of church?"

Mulcahy merely shook his head – he was expecting this, in light of the negative reports of priests that seemed to pepper the news. "No, we always sat here, in the sanctuary, usually around 9 p.m or later."

"For the record, Father, where were you between 1 p.m. Tuesday and 2 a.m. Wednesday morning?" Stella asked.

"I was with the Talerico family from around 7 p.m. until close to 3 a.m. Maria Talerica – a longtime parishioner – was dying, and the family asked that I be there. I can give you Frank's number, her son. He can confirm it for you."

"We appreciate it, Father, we have to ask." Flack said, taking the number.

"Do you know of anyone in particular she was having trouble with? A john, a rival prostitute, a pimp perhaps?" Stella asked.

Mulcahy thought a moment. "Actually, the prostitutes in this area tend to watch out for each other. She had a friend named LaToya she mentioned, but I've never met her," he said. Flack noted the name. "She never wanted to talk about her … customers. Her pimp was a man named Linc. I don't know his last name. I think he beat her up a couple of times. She didn't like to talk about him, either."

"Thank you, Father," Flack said, handing him a card. "If you think of anything else, will you give us a call?"

"No problem. I'll ask around here, too, see if anyone knows anything. By the way … Danny. He's not in trouble is he? Because of me?"

Stella shook her head. "No, he's fine, he just can't be involved with the investigation."

**_Back at the lab …_**

Danny Messer was trying to concentrate at the liquor store robbery/murder he was working, but was having trouble focusing, his mind drifting to Father Sean. "Dammit!" he said as he dropped a slide and it shattered on the floor.

"At least you hadn't put anything on it yet," noted Sheldon Hawkes, who bent to clean up the mess. "Look, Danny, why don't you take a break? I can get these started."

Danny sighed. _I need to get my head outta my ass_, he thought, then murmured his thanks to Hawkes and headed toward the elevators.

"Danny? Can you come in here for a minute?" Mac Taylor called from his office.

Danny groaned inwardly. _What now?_ Once he was inside, Mac shut the door behind him. "Look, Danny, I just want you to know you're not being punished. I'm trying to protect you and the lab."

Danny nodded. "I know, Mac."

"Fact is, I'm proud of the way you handled this. You notified Stella immediately, discontinued any further investigation until you could talk to me. That was by the book, and not what you might have done a couple of years ago. I'm proud of you."

"Yeah, thanks. I'm just, you know, worried about Sean. He's a good guy, I hate to see him involved."

Mac put his hand on Danny's shoulder. "I know, Danny, but if he's done nothing wrong, there's no reason to worry."

Danny agreed, then turned to leave. Mac stopped him. "Danny? By the way, you should know you're back on the promotion grid. You've earned it."

The younger man flashed his boss and mentor his first real smile of the day. "Really? Thanks, Mac, thanks a lot."

Walking with a little more spring in his step, he headed toward the elevator, his mood brightening even more at the sight of a petite brunette already waiting at that destination.

"Yo Montana! Wait up!" he called, and his heart warmed at the wide smile she his way. "I was gonna grab some coffee … you game?"

"Yeah, sure, if you'll tell me about why you're smiling." Lindsay stepped into the elevator with him.

Danny filled her in on Mac's compliment, and news of his return to favor. "It feels good, you know? Even I get sick of screwing up sometimes."

Soon they had grabbed some coffee from the lobby vendor and settled on a nearby bench. "So …." Danny mused. "Should we consider this a pre-date?"

Once again his heart did a little flip as he watched her face light up. They hadn't had a chance to talk since her message the night before. "You want to go?"

"Wouldn't miss it. Although if I don't see your cute Montana butt waiting patiently for me when I get there …" he wagged a finger at her.

Lindsay chuckled. Believe me, I don't make the same mistake twice. I'll be there. So … you think I have a cute butt?"

Danny appeared to consider the question. "If memory serves, yeah. Why don't you stand up and turn around …?"

Lindsay swatted him good-naturedly, and they laughed, both musing privately that they couldn't remember being this hopeful about the future in a long time.

_**NYNYNYNYNYNYNY**_

Father Sean checked his watch as he headed toward his confessional booth. Time for his 6-9 p.m. shift. Thursday nights were usually slow, and he wished he had thought to bring the newest novel he was reading. He stepped inside his cubicle and settled down. It took him a moment to get comfortable – the chairs were old and prone to splinters – which is why he didn't immediately notice the folded fabric stashed under his seat.

"What is this," he said, frowning.

Picking up the bundle, he felt this heart begin to pound. It wasn't just a random scrap of fabric, it was a scarf, a green, velvety one he remembered Sunshine wearing. _"It's too bad the pretty ones are useless against the cold, but it will have to do,"_ he remembered her saying one winter evening as she wrapped it around her neck before braving the cold.

He could feel something inside and, hands shaking, unwrapped the scarf. "Holy Mary Mother of God," he gasped, seeing what was inside.

A dangly turquoise earring, crusted with dried blood, lay in the folds along with a folded piece of paper. With trembling hands and a sense of dread, he opened it, fear gripping his heart in its sickening grasp as he read the message:

"For the Lord will execute judgment by fire and by His sword on all flesh, and those slain by the Lord will be many."

**_To be continued…_**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people _

_**Author's Note:** Phew. Had a hard time with this one! Please R&R. Thanks for all your support!!_

**Chapter 4**

Crouched in the shadows, he watched the man stumble toward his late-model Ford in the alley behind the slut's house. He was screwing his young secretary while his wife and three kids waited at home. _How cliché and utterly boring. _

Except this man chose to defile the house of God – his fatal mistake, his mortal sin. Every Sunday, he sat in the front pew of St. Thomas's listening to a man he must have instinctively known was a sinner – why else was he drawn to here Father Mulcahy? He shuddered even attaching "father" to the abomination's name. But his time would come.

For now, Mr. Alfred Tolliver would have to do. Stoking his anger, he envisioned the scum smiling beatifically as he partook of the holy sacraments. All the while probably thinking of her, the harlot who sat a few rows back with her clueless husband. _Adulterer. Filth_.

And now soon to be a corpse. As his intended victim fumbled with his keys, his stalker, filled with righteous anger, approached stealthily from behind. Jerking the man backward by a handful of hair, he drew the serrated blade ruthlessly across his throat. He let the man collapse, gurgling helplessly as he tried to scream. Blood bubbled out of his mouth.

The killer crouched in front of the dying man. "You will burn in eternal hellfire," he hissed, as the man stared in frantic terror, "and so will your whore." He stabbed the knife viciously, destroying the very instrument of the man's sin.

Tolliver's eyes finally dulled, and he dragged him into the shadow of a nearby dumpster. He soon turned and headed up the stairs to her apartment, smiling in anticipation of doing the Lord's work.

**_NYNYNYNYNYNYNY_**

"God, I'm stuffed. Would you still go out with me if I had a double chin, Montana?" Danny drew his chin down to create the desired affect, and Lindsay giggled – something that she had done more that evening than in her entire life.

"Of course, Danny. As long as we can roll you out the door."

He grinned, impulsively grabbing her hand and tucking it into his arm as they walked toward his car. "So where to? This is your date, remember?"

"My date, huh?" Lindsay said, smiling playfully. "You were just dragged helplessly along, huh? Maybe I should end your misery, hail a cab and - "

Before she could finish her sentence, he pulled her into a nearby doorway. "You're not goin' anywhere," he growled, his lips cutting off any rational thought from her mind.

Danny's move had been impulsive, and he hadn't thought of the ramifications of kissing her then. He had envisioned it countless times – how soft her lips would be, how she would respond – but it paled into the heat that spread through his body.

Lindsay, though initially stunned, soon followed the pull of her body and senses, responding eagerly, her tongue dancing with his as they pushed back against the brick.

"God, Lindsay," he rasped, pulling her to him as he gasped for air. Oxygen deprivation never felt so good.

It took her a moment, but finally she was able to speak: "So Messer, what took you so long?"

Their laughter was cut off the shrilling of her cell. Danny frowned. "Aren't you off tonight?"

Lindsay nodded distractedly, answering the phone. "Hello? A double? Where? Yeah, yeah, I'll be there." She clicked off. "Sorry. That was Mac. There was a double homicide off Court and Fifth. Stella's already busy and they need an extra set of hands."

Danny blew out a breath of frustration, but nodded, smiling evilly. "Too bad … I had plans for those hands." She chuckled as he hailed her a cab. Before she could climb in he pulled her close, kissing her fiercely. "This ain't over, ya know. Not by a long shot."

"Promises, promises," she murmured against his lips. Later, as she settled back against her seat, she found herself touching her lips in wonder. They felt warm, tingly and … branded. Yes, that was it. She'd been branded by Danny Messer.

And she wouldn't have it any other way.

**NYNYNYNYNYNYNY**

"I already told you, I don't know why it was left here. I told you everything I know." Father Sean Mulcahy rubbed his face wearily. Stella listened as she photographed the confession booth, then dusted for prints. She didn't hold out much hope for a lead – from the sheer volume, it was evident sinners flocked by the masses to unburden themselves to Father Sean.

"You sure you can't think of any reason the killer would leave this for you?" Flack queried.

"Maybe he saw her here? I don't know. Maybe it's his way of confessing his sins? I don't know what to tell you, Detective."

Stella found herself believing the priest – churches, for all their efforts for the good of God, seemed to attract their share of loonies. The passage on the paper - Isaiah 66:16 – haunted her.

" … and those slain by the Lord will be many."

She shuddered. Whoever this person was, Stella's gut told her they hadn't heard the last of him.

**NYNYNYNYNYNYNY**

Copious amounts of blood dominated both primary crime scenes. Mac tackled the alley while Lindsay headed upstairs. Miranda Linkowski had been stabbed repeatedly, and the resulting spatter covered nearly every inch of her bedroom. Incongruently, the scent of candles and perfume warred with the coppery smell of death. An hour later, she had finished with the bedroom _when_ Mac appeared.

"Angell talked to some of the neighbors. Apparently, Mrs. Linkowski was Tolliver's secretary and – this is a shocker – they were having an affair."

Lindsay nodded, following a blood trail to the bathroom. "Jealous wife?" she guessed, walking into the bathroom. It was already established that Andrew Linkowski had been working the night shift in a factory across town.

Mac's response was lost to her when she gasped, the mirror stopping her in her tracks.

"Mac? You have to see this." Mac joined her, his stare matching hers as they observed the message, written in what appeared to be the victim's blood.

"…_And the man that committeth adultery with another man's wife … the adulterer and the adulteress shall surely be put to death." _

**_To Be Continued …_**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own these people_

**Author's Note:** Thought I would never finish this chapter!!!! Please R & R

**Chapter 5**

Danny hummed to himself as he pulled on a black v-neck sweater, eagerly anticipating a second date with Lindsay. It had taken awhile to coordinate their schedules, largely due to the double homicide she was working with Mac. The case was troubling, especially since it appeared to be connected to the murder of Sheila Carson. Because of his friendship with Sean, Danny was barred from both cases, and was busy picking up the slack from his already-busy coworkers.

But tonight, Lindsay was given a reprieve, and Danny planned to make the most of it. His memory replayed the kiss that peppered his dreams. Unlike his memory, his dreams had dramatic license, expanding the kiss in his mind and giving him all sorts of ideas for their future. "If you only knew Montana," he chuckled. 

A knock at the door widened Danny's grin. Lindsay was 15 minutes early. "Just couldn't wait, could ya," he called out. Opening the door, he was surprised to see a weary Father Sean Mulcahy.

"Sean. What's up?"

"You're expecting someone, and from your smile, I'm guessing it's Lindsay," he said apologetically. "Look, I can come back –"

"No, come on in. She shouldn't be here for a few more minutes. You okay? You're not looking too good."

Sean rubbed a tired hand over his face. "I just can't stop thinking about Sheila, Mr. Tolliver … I keep asking myself, asking God, why this has been brought to my church. Is it me? Did I do something?"

Danny led him over to the couch and grabbed a beer out of the fridge – his friend could definitely use one. "Man, people do crazy shit everyday, for no good reason. If someone is targeting the church, it's not your fault."

He continued as if Danny hadn't spoken. "I keep thinking of things I've done, haven't done. What might have caused this …"

"Sean, stop," Danny said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Okay, so you went joyriding in old Mr. Simpson's Buick when you were 16, broke a few windows, lifted some cigarettes from the corner store. Not grounds for killing nobody. You're a priest, a good one, a good man."

Sean cast him a haunted look. "You paint a pretty picture of troubled boy done good, Danny, but that's not me. There are things …"

A soft knock could be heard at the door. "Danny?"

"Come in, Montana," he called, and Sean rose to leave.

"I'm sorry I interrupted your evening Danny, seriously, have a good time," he said, then stopped short as Lindsay, careless curls brushing her shoulders, a blush of the spring air pinking her cheeks, entered the room.

Lindsay paused, a bit uncomfortable with his look. From the collar she surmised it was Danny's friend Sean, but was thrown off by the intensity of his gaze. "Hi … I'm Lindsay?" she said, extending a hand.

"Yeah, hey, Linds, this is Sean, or Father Mulcahy. Dude, you all right?" Danny also noticed his friend's face, which was ashen.

Sean shook himself. Something about this girl, the curve of her jaw, the soft curls, gentle smile – brought to mind an image of someone from his past, someone he had long pushed from his mind. But this was Lindsay, Danny's Lindsay, and Celeste ... she was gone.

"Sorry, woolgathering I guess. Nice to meet you Lindsay," he said, shaking her hand. "Listen, you two have a good time. Gotta go."

Danny stared at the door after Sean left, concerned for his friend.

"Is he okay?" Lindsay asked.

"As okay as he can be, with these murders hanging over his head," he said. Shaking his head, he pulled her close, kissing her softly. "Good to see you."

Lindsay moved to kiss him again when his stomach growled. She laughed. "Hungry?" she asked innocently.

"Only for you, baby," Danny waggled his eyebrows, then chuckled as his stomach rumbled again. "And a couple of pizzas, maybe."

She laughed. "C'mon, Romeo."

_NYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNY_

A couple hours later, they were back at his apartment, Danny fighting a potentially losing battle with a stubborn corkscrew and a bottle of merlot, Lindsay comfortable ensconced on the couch.

"I'm worried about him," Danny said, pausing to smile as he finally worked the cork free. "We went through a lot together, a lot of bad shit, but I've never seen him like this."

"Well, hopefully we'll find something to solve the case," Lindsay said, a frown darkening her eyes. She rose to walk to his windows, taking in the stars. "In the meantime you just have to be there, listen."

"It's the guilt, mainly. Sean always felt it – over his mom getting knocked around by his dad, our buddy that went to jail, everything – it's followed him, and I'm worried what it will do to him now."

"Guilt's a powerful thing."

Danny walked into the living room with the wine, and, noting the tense set of her shoulders, set the glasses down, and approached her.

Lindsay's heart leapt, then warmed when she felt his hands on her arms, then around her. "You did everything you could for your friends, Linds. You brought their killer to justice. You know that, right?"

"It's better. No more dreams, no more tears. Just regret about what could have been, should have been." She was silent for a moment, then turned within the circle of his arms. "I'm ready for the future, Danny."

Standing on tiptoe, she touched her lips to his, sighing as he responded. He pulled back to touch her face, his voice hushed. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me, too," she said, her lips finding his again. 

The glasses of wine Danny had fought so hard for were forgotten as their kisses deepened. Lindsay's body tingled as his arms tightened around her, his lips moving to explore her jaw and the gentle curve of her throat.

"Danny …" her voice a sigh that sent shivers down his spine. This woman invaded him, taking him over, pushing mind, body and soul. A moment of sanity intervened, however, and he paused to look into her eyes. "Are you okay? Is this too soon? Do you …"

Lindsay stopped him with a kiss. "Don't you think we've waited long enough?"

No words crossed his lips, but when he swept her off her feet and into his bedroom, she had her answer.  
_  
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"No! God, no! What do you want? Please, don't do this!" The woman had been begging for hours, ever since she awakened in the stinking basement of an abandoned tenement near the church. "Money! I have money! I can get you whatever you want!"

No one could hear her. The building was so rank and disgusting, even the homeless scorned it. That, and its proximity to St. Thomas's made it perfect for his purposes. The man slapped a piece of duct tape over her mouth to match the bands of it around her wrists. He was weary of her whining, and eager to be done with the prideful bitch.

He smiled as he climbed five stories to the rooftop, remembering her tears as he had clipped the locks of flowing hair, the terrified screams as he sliced into her. Now, the mane she proudly tossed to and fro in the house of God was gone, reduced to stubble, and the bandage around her chest was damp with fresh blood.

He dragged her onto the roof, the muffled screams music to his ears as he imagined what Father Sean would think of his latest offering. The woman's hands clawed at his arms, but he didn't feel them. She was already dead to him, he only had to give her the final push into hell.

At the ledge of the building, he watched her eyes widen in terror as she looked below. He ripped the tape off her mouth with a vicious yank. "Oh God! Somebody help me! Father Sean! Somebody, please!!!"

He clapped his hand over her mouth, leaning to her ear to hiss: "God can't hear you, bitch. As for Sean? You'll see him in hell."

The man's face was one of beatific peace as he listened to her screams crescendo before she hit the concrete below.

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"Diana Lanford," Don Flack said somberly. "We found her driver's license in her pocket."

Stella slowly circled the body, splayed pathetically askew it the dank alley. Her head had been savagely shorn of what appeared to have been blond hair. She was nude from the waist up; bloody bandages cover her breasts.

Despite the horrific nature of the woman's injuries, it was the message written on her stomach that sent shivers of fear down her spine, for by now, the familiar slashing penmanship as chilling as the message.

_"Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall."_

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own these people_

_**Author's Note:**__ Just picking up the mystery portion. Hope you guys enjoy._

**CHAPTER 6**

"Her injuries are consistent with a fall from an eight story building," said Dr. Sid Hammerback gesturing to the battered body of Diana Lanford.

"What's this?" Stella gestured to the slashes across the woman's oddly deflated looking breasts.

"I was getting to that. It appears Ms. Lanford had a breast augmentation, I would say maybe a couple of years ago."

Stella's eyes narrowed at the brutal slashes. "He cut them out?"

"And none to gently, either. Same with the hair." Sid gently touched the ragged scalp. "I found several shallow lacerations, recent, consistent with a very brutal haircut. He used some type of scissors or shears, judging from the wounds. As for his … surgery, he used a knife, serrated."

Stella shivered. Four brutal murders, and they were no closer to catching the psycho than when they started. "I don't suppose you found anything with our killer's name on it?"

He sighed. "I wish Stella. I've seen a lot in my lifetime, but this man … he's brutal. He's not going to stop. You have to catch this guy."

"Tell me something I don't know."

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"Danny!" Mac called from his office. "In here!"

He rushed into his boss's office, his step still bouncing after a languorous night spent with Lindsay in his arms. _I'm floating on freakin' air, how cheesy is that?_ He chuckled at himself, happy to be in the clouds until Mac brought him crashing to earth.

"There's been another murder, Danny. And we're going to need you on this case. I can't spare you anymore." Mac filled him in on the Lanford murder, including the fact that the victim was a member of St.Thomas's.

Danny sat heavily. "Does Sean know?"

"We informed Father Mulcahy this morning. He's understandably upset."

"Yeah, about that, Mac. You know I wanna help, but aren't you going to catch heat because Sean and I are friends?"

His mentor shook his head. "We just can't afford to keep you off of it, Danny. You're too valuable to the team. Besides, your relationship with Father Mulcahy would be more of a concern if he was a suspect, and he has alibis for every murder. When Ms. Lanford was killed, He was presiding over a candlelight vigil for troops in Iraq."

"You want me to talk to him? I mean, it's obvious there's a connection."

Mac shook his head. "Maybe later, but for now, I want you to help Stella with the evidence from the scene."

Danny nodded and made his way quickly to the lab. "What do ya got?"

Stella sighed. "Bandages, available at every drug store in the city, her clothes, jewelry. The usual. Did you hear our killer removed her breast implants?" Danny grimaced, shaking his head. "Well, all Sid can tell us is that the killer used a serrated blade. We've got nothing, Danny, no witnesses, nothing."

He didn't respond, thinking of Sean as he looked over Lanford's personal effects. "Mac said he thinks she was grabbed after work?"

Stella nodded. "Yeah. She worked the perfume counter at Bergdorf's. We found her car in the parking structure, but no one remembers seeing anything." She frowned when she noticed Danny's expression. "What is it?"

Danny picked up a gold medallion on a slim, gold chain. "She was wearing this?"

"Yeah. I thought it was a bit odd that the killer left that on. Other jewelry witnesses said she was wearing earlier is nowhere to be found, and no one remembers seeing her ever wear any type of religious charms or anything. Are you thinking it may be from our killer?"

"You must be thinking the same thing or you wouldn't have asked," he said with a small smile. He leaned over to take a closer look at the disc, which had a cross-like emblem on it. The piece looked like it had been worn often – there was clearly a nick in the gold just to the side of the cross design. He turned it over, squinting, and grabbed a nearby magnifying glass to get a closer look at some etching on the back. "Dominus Est?" Danny wondered. "Latin?"

"It is the Lord." He turned to see Sheldon Hawkes joining them. "And yes, it's Latin. I was actually thinking the cross design might be a specific emblem of some sort."

Danny nodded. "The way it was placed … hey Stel, you mind if I take this? Show it to Sean? If this is from some place in New York, he'll no about it."

She nodded. "We've already swabbed it for blood and sent it to DNA. Go ahead."

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Danny found Father Sean in his office. He flashed his badge at the church secretary and strongly suggested she take a coffee break.

"Sean?"

He was shocked at his friend's appearance. His eyes appeared sunken, deep circles surrounding them. In the past couple weeks, he appeared to have aged a decade, lines deepening around his mouth and eyes.

"Tell me you've found who did this, Danny. Please."

"What I can tell you is I'm back on the case. We'll get him, Sean, I promise."

He sighed, leaning back wearily in his chair. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Actually, that's why I'm here." Danny pulled out the medallion, handing it over. "Recognize that? We're thinking the design is specific. Also, it says "dominus est" on the back. But, you probably know that being a priest and all … Sean? What's wrong?"

Sean's pale appearance was nothing to the colorless cast his skin had now. The priest clutched the medallion, his mouth working, eyes widened in shock. "Oh my Dear God … Celeste."

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Danny ran into the lab, catching Lindsay at his desk. "We got a break, Montana! Sean recognized the design on the medallion. It's from the Sister of Mercy, and international group of nuns who have a branch in Heartsdale. More than that, we know who it belonged to, and it wasn't Diana Lanford. It was – "

"Celeste Medina." Stella said, approaching with Hawkes in tow.

Danny recovered enough from his shock to ask, "How?"

"DNA," Hawkes answered. "There were two donors to the blood we found on the jewelry. One set of DNA belonged to Ms. Lanford. But minute traces in the grooves of the medallion, almost completely degraded, hit on a suicide case from 2001."

"Celeste Medina," Danny said, nodding.

"Who is she?" Lindsay prompted, feeling a tad annoyed at being the only one out of the loop.

Stella filled her in. "She was a novitiate with the Sisters of Mercy. She was preparing to take her vows when she was found dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. People who knew her said she had been distracted, even disturbed shortly before her death."

Lindsay was confused. "So what connection does a suicide have to our murders?"

Danny sighed. "Father Sean Mulcahy."

TBC 


	7. Chapter 7

**_Disclaimer:_ **_I don't own these people._

_**Author's Note**_: _A long time coming, but here it is if anyone cares, lol. Please R &R … I'm thinking probably two more chapters …._

**CHAPTER 7**

"She was beautiful. Goes without saying, huh? Would-be priest wouldn't doubt his calling over anything less, right?" Sean's chuckled humorlessly. Recognizing the value of silence, Danny waited.

"We actually met at the soup kitchen on Fourth and Elm. Even sweating over a vat of instant mashed potatoes, she had this glow about her. Celeste would always meet me out back in the courtyard. It smelled like garbage – the dumpster was nearby – but there was a tree, and she loved nature. We'd eat lunch and talk. Innocent stuff. Our backgrounds, our calling. She grew up in foster homes, did I tell you that?" Danny shook his head.

Sean continued. "Her parents died in a car crash, she had no one to her in. At 10, she was too old for most. Living out of boxes, never having anyone to really love you. Can you imagine? But she never lost her light." He pauses to take a breath. "I never got tired of looking at her. She had this wavy honey brown hair and the most beautiful brown eyes. All knowing. She definitely knew me. She was tough, but still soft, steel underneath the fragile."

"Like Lindsay," Danny heard himself murmur. Sean's eyes flare briefly.

"Yes, like Lindsay. Remember when I met her? It struck me then, in one look, that she reminded me of Celeste, even similar hair and eyes. I was caught in a time warp, I guess. Hope I didn't freak her out too badly.

"Anyway, I think we both told ourselves that we were just friends, until one night. There was this young kid – Tyrell, he was 13 – who was on the streets with his mom. We never saw much of her. She was always turning tricks for her drug habit. Anyway, we all liked him, always gave a little extra, let him sleep in the back office some nights. This one night he came in, covered in blood. Apparently, he found his mom with this guy – a john – and he'd killed her. Tyrell was stabbed trying to get to her, got away from him, and found his way to the soup kitchen.

"Anyway, we called 911 and tried to keep Tyrell alive. A gut wound. They bleed a lot."

Danny murmured his agreement, flashing his mind back to a gut wound that nearly killed Don Flack.

"He died in our arms. Celeste was living in an apartment near the church and I walked her home. We went inside together, cried together, prayed together. She didn't want to be alone and, next thing you know …" Sean's voice broke. "I loved her, Danny."

Danny placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a moment. Then, "What happened to her, Sean?"

He gave a shuddering sigh. "I told her I needed time. About a week later, I … told her we couldn't be together. I realized I couldn't leave the priesthood. It's not just my calling, it's who I am. She was devastated, crying, telling me how she couldn't go on. Two days later she was dead."

"I'm sorry." Danny was now awkwardly hugging him. A few minutes passed. "Sean? We have to figure out what this has to do with the murders. Any idea?"

Sean shook his head miserably. "I don't know. No one knew about us. She didn't have any family. I don't know."

Holding back a sigh of frustration, Danny gave his friend's shoulders another squeeze. "It's okay Sean. We have a place to start."

Suddenly he can feel the vibration of his pager. He looks down. It's from Stella. A body on 16th and Woodward. 911. "Bring Fr. Mulcahy," the message reads. _Jesus. Not again_.

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He watched the woman with the dark, kinky hair and low-cut blouse – slut – survey the scene. Her name is Stella – he's made it his business to know everyone. He waited awhile in the shadows of a nearby building and grins. Danny Messer. Sean's friend. He grinned evilly, knowing he'd decided to make the pretender's closest pal, his brother really, part of his plan.

Nothing like guilt to drive a point home. It had worked before. In the meantime, he hoped they like his present. He knew Sean would appreciate it.

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"Oh no. Please Lord, no." At the sight of the bloodied body in the alley, Sean fell to his knees, eyes slamming shut.

The body had been found behind a homeless shelter. The dead man was young, late 20s, in the unmistakable garb of a priest, the black clothing now punctured with stab wounds. Blood had poured out of his mouth, run down his neck and congealed on the grimy concrete below.

"His tongue was cut out," Stella murmured, handing over a photograph. "We found this is his front pocket."

Danny looked at the picture, showing Sean with the dead man, both in formal vestments, Sean's hand around the man's shoulders.

"We were hoping Father Mulcahy could identify him for us-" Stella began.

"Seth Marks," Sean croaked. "He trained under me a couple of years ago."

"And the verse?" Danny gestured to the black marker on the man's forehead: Jeremiah 23:30.

"Therefore behold, I am against the prophets, saith the Lord, that steal my words," Sean said, breaking down again. "Oh Seth, I'm sorry."

Gently but firmly, Danny guided Sean away from the scene to a nearby crate and sat him down, Stella following discreetly behind. "I'm sorry, Sean, but you have to explain this one to us. Any idea what it means?"

Taking a shuddering breath, Sean explained. "He was training with me, as I said. I let him to a few homilies – sermons – and he electrified the congregation. Related so well. I was impressed, until some of the words sounded familiar. I realized later he was directly copying the work of another priest whose words we often studied."

"I am against the prophets that steal my words," Stella mused, as Sean continued.

"… I had to report him, and he had to repeat that year of school. He was almost kicked out, but I intervened. I had heard he was volunteering here … oh Danny, he wasn't a bad kid, just … oh God, this is all my fault."

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After a long day of processing and investigation, they were no closer to finding their killer. Danny wearily arrived home, taking his clothes off as he made his way to the shower. He let the warm, almost scalding spray rain down on him, trying to wash away the gore, the sadness in his friend's eyes.

Suddenly, the curtain opened, and Danny felt small hands run up his back, rubbing his shoulders. "Lindsay …" he breathed, his voice a grateful sigh.

"Shhhhh …." She leaned against his back, hugging him from behind, willing the tension out of his body.

After a few moments of just reveling in the sensation of her body against his, Danny turned, pulling her into his arms. Slowly, reverently, they made love, letting their emotion and the gentle rain of the shower erase the devastation of the day.

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His body relaxed, Lindsay cuddled against him under the down comforter, Danny finally felt able to confront the day's events.

"He's broken, Linds, and I – I don't know what to do for him." He dashed away hot, salty tears as they coursed down his cheeks. "I'm helpless."

"You're doing everything you can," she said, tracing a gentle finger down chest.

"You don't understand, Lindsay. He's always been there for me. When Louie was shutting me out, when my Pop was dying of cancer, Sean got me through. And I've never been there. I'm useless, just like I was for Louie. Just like I am for everyone I'm close to."

Lindsay bolted up, staring at him. "Stop right there, Messer. You're not to blame for this, just like you weren't to blame for Louie. You're a good man, Danny, a good friend. You were there for Flack after the explosion, Stella after Frankie's death, and you've always been there for me.

"What's happening to Sean is horrible, disgusting, but it's the fault of the killer, no one else. We'll find him, Danny, I promise."

He pulled her back down to his chest, holding her tightly, praying to Sean's God that she was right.

**To Be Continued ….**


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer:** __I don't own these people_

_**Author's note:**_ _Wow, I didn't go a whole month this time. Wonders never cease. Please read and review, and thanks everyone, for all your support._

**CHAPTER 8**

Danny Messer faced the next day bolstered by a night spent in the arms of Lindsay Monroe. He smiled as he remembered watching her sleep in the crook of his arm. He kissed her awake and banished any thoughts of breakfast for the next half hour.

Later, one appetite sated, he made her the Messer special – an omelet with whatever happened to be in the fridge, in this case, bacon bits, slightly mushy green pepper, mozzarella cheese and black olives. Then they showered. Together. He grinned. _I could definitely get used to mornings like that. _

Happier thoughts bled from his mind as he approached St. Thomas's. He knew Sean would be there, and wanted to see how he was holding up. Entering the sanctuary, he saw two figures in the third pew. The larger, older of the two turned at Danny's footsteps.

"Daniel Messer! I haven't seen you in a long time."

Danny returned the man's hearty handshake. "Father McPatrick. How are ya?"

The florid Irishman, now retired, was pushing 70, but still boasted a full head of silver hair. Sean, who had been sitting beside his mentor, rose. His eyes were bloodshot, and Danny felt his friend had aged at least 5 years in one night, 10 since this ordeal began. "Hey … anything?" he asked hopefully.

Danny shook his head at the obvious question. "I haven't even been into work, yet. I'll be sure and let you know. Have you thought of anything that might help us?"

Sean shook his head and sank down on the pew.

"We've just been discussing the futileness of Sean's guilt, Daniel," McPatrick intoned. "It's obviously the work of some … troubled individual. Misguided, into thinking that Sean is anything less than a loyal, dedicated man of God."

Danny noticed Sean's shoulders slump further at the unintentionally guilt-rendering effect of Andrew McPatrick's words. He'd bet the bank Sean hadn't told him of Celeste – McPatrick was known as a by-the-book man.

"We'll find them Sir – er, Father."

"Good, lad. Keep us posted. I'll take care of Sean."

Danny gave his friend a brief hug, and took his leave, grateful for Father McPatrick's presence.

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"Stella, baby, tell me whatcha got."

She glanced up from her computer. Today she was wearing another low cut red blouse with a white geometric design. "Nothing so far … stop looking at me like that."

"Stop showin' your hooters," he shot back good naturedly. The two often sparred like siblings. "Sean's got nothing, I checked with him this morning."

Stella's eyes furrowed. "We can't find much about Celeste. I spoke to the Mother Superior, who confirmed she was conflicted, but didn't know why. I also checked with her friends. Nothing there. They all said Celeste didn't keep in touch with anyone from her past. I guess she wanted to forget about the foster homes … can't blame her there."

Danny nodded absently at Stella's reference to her own troubled childhood. "Maybe this person was to her, maybe just some maintenance guy who worshipped from afar?"

With a flourish, Stella produced a sheaf of paper. "This is a list of everyone who worked at the church, soup kitchen, and Celeste's apartment building, along with tenants of the day. Ready for some footwork?"

Danny groaned. "Let's go."

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"Sid. What's going on with our vic?"

Hammerback shook his head sadly. "Would you believe I've never done an autopsy on a man of the cloth before? Especially not a murdered one. Anyway, he was stabbed with a large, non-serrated blade. A different knife, smaller, like a jack knife, was used to cut out the tongue. I did find this." He produced a small plastic container with gray flecks inside.

"Ash?" Lindsay guessed.

"Right on. I'm thinking some type of cigarette or cigar. That's your department."

"Thanks, Sid." She started to leave.

"Um, Miss Monroe?" She turned. "You might want to fix that collar."

Lindsay touched her turtleneck, which had inadvertently folded down, revealing a distinctive hickey. She hastily remedied the situation, her cheeks bright crimson.

"Told you he had a crush," Sid called, cackling. _Those two_, he thought, _inevitable as the rising sun._

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"Boo."

Lindsay jumped to find Mac standing behind her, goofy grin on his face. She sighed inwardly. Ever since her boss had hooked up with Peyton, he acted all giddy, not the usual Mac. _Creepy_. "Hi Mac. I'm just analyzing this ash we found on the vic."

Mac's serious work face returned, much to Lindsay's relief. "Which one?"

"Seth Marks. It's pipe ash, a special blend called Manhattan Haymaker. I'm doing a search now to find out who carries it. There's actually once on Burbank Street, just a few blocks from the church."

He nodded. "Good work. Hawkes is in the field now. Why don't you call him and ask him to check it out? We need something to break open this case."

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He whistled as he enjoyed the balmy summer breeze. Everything was going well. The police were running around like dogs chasing their tails, sinners dispatched, and Sean? Well, Sean was very close to losing his mind. A fitting place until he met his demise.

But first things first. He had a couple more candidates to take care of before he set his final plans into motion. It was amazing how many damned individuals there were to be found in a house of God. It was Sean's fault. He drew them like moths to flames.

He smiled as McBurney's Pipe Shop came into view. It had been a favorite for years, and was the only place within several miles that carried Manhattan Haymaker. Right now he was ready for a pipe full of the blend to fortify him for another night's work.

He stopped in his tracks. Sheldon Hawkes, the scholarly member of the CSI team, was taking to the owner. Pausing, he recalled how he had gleefully lit up his pipe over the decimated body of Seth Marks. He damned his foolish pride. They were onto him. It was only a matter of time before they put the puzzle together. He gave a mental shrug and continued on his path, passing McBurney's, whistling once again. No matter. It was just time to step things up a notch.

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"You want the good news or bad news?" Hawkes asked Lindsay, papers in hand.

"Good news."

"Well, the good news is Paddy McBurney keeps records of all his regular customers' preferences, and has very few one-timers."

"The bad news?"

"Manhattan Haymaker is a very popular blend." He handed her the papers. "More than 100 dedicated customers."

Lindsay sighed and stifled a yawn. "Oh well. It's something. I've got a double any way, I'll start cross-referencing these names with the vics, Celeste as well."

"Where's Danny?"

She smiled. It was amazing how quickly they became known as a couple. "At home, chilling out. This case has taken a lot out of him."

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"What's up," Danny asked, smiling at the Lindsay's voice.

"Checking out some leads. I'll let you know if we find anything. How's Sean?"

"As well as can be expected. He's call in reinforcements – Father McPatrick, our old parish priest. He's trying to tell Sean not to blame himself. I hope he listens."

Lindsay could tell Danny was dubious. "I'm sorry. You know, we should – "

Danny's pager trilled. "Just a sec, Linds – text message. Shit. I have to go."

"What's up?"

"It's Father McPatrick. Sean's really breaking down. I gotta head over there."

"No problem. Danny?"

"Yeah."

"Love you."

"Back atcha, Montana."

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

_**Disclaimer:** __I don't own these people._

_**Author's note:**_ _Okay. One more chapter and then this monkey is off my back! Does anyone still remember this story? Thanks for all your support. _

**CHAPTER 9**

Danny rushed to the door of the parsonage only to find a note from either Sean or Father McPatrick. _We're in the St. Peter chapel_. The chapel was kept locked generally, and was only used for small, private weddings and funerals. Danny nodded, assuming that Sean's associate pastor, Father Roger McNally, was likely manning the main sanctuary and confessional.

He made his way to the small chapel, located on the rear of the campus. Despite the fact they were in the middle of a large city, the stone building achieved a certain amount of anonymity and privacy. Danny paused outside the large oak door a moment before knocking.

"Danny!" It was Father McPatrick. "Come in lad!"

The chapel had been built in accordance with the uneven land around it – it had been constructed before the era of modern land balancing – and opened to a stairway. Danny squinted to look into the dim light, as the stairway was lit only by a small sconce and a shaft of moonlight. He could make out the shape of Father McPatrick standing next to Sean, who was sitting on one of the old-fashioned wooden pews.

"Sean, buddy, you okay?" As Danny ran down the steps and into the light of the chapel altar, he saw three things quickly: the gun in Father McPatrick's hand, Sean's bound hands and taped mouth.

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Lindsay yawned and Hawkes smiled sympathetically. "Tired?" She nodded absently. They had spent the last couple of hours at the computer, trying to link Celeste Medina to the current victim and/or main players of the case.

"Hey, I've got an email from my friend Melanie in social services." Hawkes sat up in his chair. "Okay, her parents, Al and Majorie. They were killed by a drunk driver when Celeste was 10, no one to take her, foster homes. Oh … wait. She wasn't the Medinas' natural child. They adopted her as an infant."

"Really?" Lindsay was getting so drowsy, she pounced on this new factoid to keep her awake.

"Yeah. It says her mother was a woman named Denise Rockford, and it was processed though … St. Thomas's. That's really interesting. Oh."

"What?" she prompted impatiently. This was why Lindsay liked working on the computer by herself. Now she had to wait for Hawkes to mete out the details.

"The adoption was brokered by Father Andrew McPatrick … who also arranged for her Catholic education through St. Mary's in Brooklyn. Very pricey school."

An uneasy feeling began to stir. "Something's strange," Lindsay murmured

"Agreed," Hawkes grunted. "I'm calling Mel. I'm curious about what happened to Denise Rockford, and why Father McPatrick seems to be everywhere."

Lindsay drummed her fingers as she listened to Hawkes "Mmm hmm" and "Oh" and "That's interesting" through the conversation. Finally he hung up, expression pensive.

"Something's off here. According to Mel, who knows the guy that handled Celeste's case over the years, Father McPatrick took a particular interest in her. Not only did he arrange for her education, he kept in contact: He helped her get a position as alter server, took her to lunch regularly, involved her in church youth retreats. It seems he was almost grooming her."

Lindsay's mind began to jump unpleasantly. "We should bring McPatrick in …"

"Wait, Lindsay, there's more. Denise Rockford, before her death, was a maid at the church. In particular, she was responsible for cleaning the rectory. Mel said Roger Scranton, the social worker who dealt with Celeste was also a parishioner at St. Thomas's, and remembers there being rumors about Denise and Father McPatrick."

Lindsay sat up straighter. "You think Celeste was his?"

Hawkes nodded. "It would make sense. Scranton told Mel he was divided about McPatrick's involvement, suspected the same thing. Also felt McPatrick pushed her into the nun thing, actually said something about Celeste being a special child of the Lord or something."

"You know what? I'm going to call Danny." Lindsay punched in the numbers. When Danny's voicemail picked up, the blood drained from her face. "He's not answering. Oh God."

"What?"

"He went to meet Sean and Father McPatrick."

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Danny's phone trilled in the tense stillness of the church.

"Don't answer it, boy." Father McPatrick's joyful brogue making the situation all the more menacing. "Now Daniel, why don't you take your gun out - no false moves – and set it on the altar there. That's a good lad. Back away, now.

"C'mon father, what's going on? Why don't you untie Sean and we'll talk about this."

"You want to talk, do ya? Good idea son. But I don't think I'll untie Sean just yet." McPatrick reached over and ripped the tape from Sean's mouth. "Sean, my boy. Would you like to tell Danny boy here the story or shall I? The story of you, your sins, and how you destroyed Celeste?"

"Father, please. Just let Danny go. This is madness. This …"

"Don't want to discuss it? Perhaps I will explain then. You see, Daniel, may years ago, as a much younger man, you understand, I was tempted, and I fell. Denise – Celeste's mother – was the forbidden fruit, and I took a fateful bite. I remember falling on my knees in this very church, begging forgiveness. And God listened. He gave me a gift, luminous clay to shape and mold into his servant. If I could just keep her pure ..."

"Celeste." Danny murmured, the story beginning to take shape.

"Beautiful girl, she seemed so willing, so devoted to serving the Lord. And then Sean – this boy I brought from nothing, snatched from the jaws of the devil – took her from me. Led her down the path of sin."

"We fell in love, we didn't mean – "

McPatrick's slap echoed throughout the church. "Don't you talk about love! What you did was not love! I saw you, rutting like animals that night, in the shadows of the house of God!"

"Just let Danny go. We'll take care of it. We'll end it tonight … no one else has to suffer!"

"Oh, that's where you're wrong, Sean. You have not yet begun to suffer, I can never make you suffer enough. For taking Celeste past the point of redemption, down the path of sin. For what you made me do.

"I remember how she wept that last night, telling me how she loved you, how you rejected her. After that, she still wanted you. Was going to see you again, convince you that you belonged together. She thought she was pregnant! I couldn't let her produce a child, an abomination! I couldn't let that happen again. Not after her slut mother tempted me, made me stray. God gave me Celeste to make amends, and I was succeeding. Then you – YOU!

Sean finally seemed to find the strength for words. "Celeste … she was pregnant? Our child? She killed our child?"

"Your child," McPatrick sneered. "She begged, on her knees like the whore she'd become, begging me to spare her child. Interesting, though, she was stronger than I thought. It was a struggle to hold the gun to her head, but God gave me the strength, and I sent her and her demon seed to hell."

"You killed her, you bastard!" Sean flung himself off the pew, but his bindings prevented him from doing anything further. McPatrick let loose a vicious kick to his ribs. Danny moved forward.

"I'd advise you not to try anything, Daniel," he said, the gun swinging toward him. Danny stepped back warily. "Make no mistake, Sean, you killed her, as you've killed all the sinners I've sent to their rightful place in hell by drawing them here with your sin. Sinners always seem to find each other, you know. I've seen it happen over and over.

"Now Daniel, I'm glad you're here. Be a good lad and pull Sean over the altar." When Danny didn't move, McPatrick pointed the gun to Sean's head. "It wasn't a request."

He reluctantly pulled Sean over to the altar, mind racing as he tried to think of a way out of the situation. He still had his backup piece in an ankle strap, but was wary of McPatrick's sharp gaze. Could he reach it in time? Meanwhile, McPatrick pulled a knife from his pocket, training the gun on Danny while he cut Sean's hand. "No false moves, and stay there or your dear friend is dead.

"Now for the grand finale. Sean, my boy, you are guilt stricken over these tragic murders, don't you know, and you are going to take this gun – " McPatrick produced another pistol from his pocket. "And join that slut Celeste in hell. But first, you're going to watch your best friend die."

McPatrick pointed the second gun at Danny, grinning evily as Sean protested. "Sadly, though, the police are going to think your dear friend came to stop you, and you shot him rather than allow him to stop you from completing your destiny."

"Father, no! Not Danny! He's has no part in this! Please!"

McPatrick had cocked the hammer on the gun pointed at Danny and his eyes narrowed, ready to shoot, when a creak at the top of the stairs. Danny looked to see Lindsay at the top of the stairs, her brown curls shining like a nimbus in the moonlight.

McPatrick paled. "No! Celeste! It can't be! You're dead!" He turned as if to confront the image of his dead daughter and Danny grabbed the gun from the ankle holster. He fired, catching McPatrick in the chest.

"Danny!" Lindsay raced down the stairs, her own gun drawn. "Hawkes! In here!"

_Crack!_ Lindsay and Danny spun around to see Sean holding one of McPatrick's guns, the disgraced priest lying dead from a second gunshot wound to the head. In his hand he held the other gun, which had been trained on Danny and Lindsay.

"He was going to shoot you," Sean said dully.

Danny went to his friends' side. "Are you okay?"

His eyes looked glazed. "I don't think I'll ever be okay."

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own these people._

_**Author's note:**__ Last chapter! Never thought I'd make it! Thank you so much, those of you who have stuck with me during this loooooonnnngggg journey. This story was painful to write in that it was a new genre for me and didn't flow as easily as others in the past. So thanks for the support. Please R&R._

**CHAPTER 10**

Danny sat on Father Sean Mulcahy's Spartan bed in the rectory, made even more so by the absence of sheets. The soon-to-be former priest, ever efficient, had already stripped them from the bed.

"You sure you wanna do this, man?" Danny was dubious.

"I'm sure. It's not as if the church can use more bad publicity," Sean said, sending a weak smile his way. "Besides, Father McNally will do a wonderful job leading the parish. He is a man of pure heart. Mine is anything but."

Sean had decided to leave the priesthood almost immediately after the fatal shooting of Father McPatrick. Two months of intense prayer and counsel only strengthened his resolve. When Danny had tried to dissuade Sean from making any rash decisions, Sean had been resolute.

"I hid within the church after Celeste died. I clung to the ceremony of it all, used it as my solace. I didn't stay to serve others, I stayed to help myself."

Now Sean was preparing to take a new post - director of the local Boys & Girls Club. "I can do a lot of good, there, Danny. No ulterior motives. This time my heart will truly be in what I am doing."

Danny clapped him on his back, convinced finally that Sean was making the best decision for himself. "Yeah, well, I'm here for you. May not have done the best job in the past, but I'm here now."

His friend smiled. "You've always been here, and I know you will be. How's Lindsay, by the way?"

He frowned, then smiled - a common reaction where the petite brunette was concerned. "Good. I mean ... yeah, we're good. I'm just, I don't know."

Sean perched next to Danny on the bed. "Problems?"

"Not exactly, everything's great. I just ... I don't know. Lindsay just kind of happened to me Sean. I don't know where to go from here. Am I ready? Is the old love-em-and-leave-em Messer gone?"

"Do you love her?" Sean's expression was both sad and kind.

"Yeah ... it's just ... I want to be what she needs, what she deserves."

Sean sighed. "You know, that day, all those years ago, I told Celeste I couldn't leave the church because of my devotion to it. Truth was, I also worried about not measuring up to her needs. Was she in love with me or Father Mulcahy? Was I good enough? So I turned my back on her, and there's no going back."

Danny opened his mouth to speak, failed to find the right words, and settled for laying a comforting hand on his shoulder, which Sean promptly shook off.

"I'm not looking for sympathy, Danny. I'm just warning you that in this life we rarely get second chances. If in Lindsay you have found true love - and I believe you have - grab it and don't let go."

NYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNYNY

"How is he?" Lindsay handed Danny a glass of pinot noir and settled next to him on his tiny balcony. She'd noticed his distracted mood and assumed it came from his meeting with Sean.

_In this life we rarely get second chances ..._

"What?" Danny was shaken out of his reverie. "Oh, as well as can be expected. I think he'll be okay, though. The job'll help. He's always loved working with kids."

She nodded. "When you weren't back by 5, I figured you guys were having some deep discussions."

"Actually, I left St. Thomas's around 3. Had to stop at the bank."

"The bank? Tomorrow's payday, Danny. Why make two trips?"

"Ummmm ... had to get something from the safety deposit box." That something, though only a few ounces, felt like several tons in his jeans pocket. 

"What did you have to get in that area? The traffic sucks at 3 a.m., let alone 3 p.m."

_Grab it and don't let go ..._

Danny nodded to himself, sure in the knowledge that he was making the biggest - and best - decision in his life. Never one for ceremony, he slipped the faded velvet box from his pocket and held it out.

For a moment, time stood still and their gazes locked as Danny's hand remained suspended between them. Lindsay finally shook herself and took the box in trembling hands. She opened it to reveal a delicate rose gold diamond ring.

"It was my grandma's." Danny said. "Now I want it to be yours. Marry me, Lindsay."

"It's beautiful," she said softly, and it was. The antique setting was etched in tiny roses, setting off perfectly the shimmering diamond within. She pulled her eyes away, raising them to meet Danny's blue ones. "Are you sure, Danny? A lot's been going on ... you almost were ... McPatrick was going to ..."

Danny stopped her words. "This isn't some weirdo near death experience snap decision Lindsay. I just realized today that I don't want to wait any longer. Sitting with Sean, I realized how important love is, and fragile at the same time. Neglect it ... and it fades away.

"Life is short, Lindsay. It's a cliché for a reason. Every day that passes is one wasted if you let it be. I love you. Marry me."

The blue eyes before her were determined, full of love and purpose. They were the eyes of the man she loved. Never one for Hallmark moments, Lindsay didn't cry or jump for joy, she simply rested her forehead on his.

"Yes."

And it was done.

_**Six months later ...**_

Danny and Sean sat on large stone steps, gazing lazily at the stone fountain before them and enjoying two cold brews.

"You ready?" Sean asked.

"Yup. Wouldn't be here in this suit if I wasn't," Danny answered. The suit in question was a deep cream linen, with an open-collared white shirt. The two friends were in a lush courtyard, the centerpiece of an old New York apartment building, home to Stella Bonasera. "What about you, you ready?"

"I guess. I'm still not happy about not being best man. At least an usher, since Louie's able to do that."

"Yeah, but I always wanted you to perform my wedding."

"Even though I'm not a priest anymore."

"Yeah, but you are a man of the cloth, Reverend Sean Mulcahy of the Galaxy Starship Church." Danny burst into a fit of giggles.

"Hey, as I recall you begged, and were the one who suggested the whole online ordination thing. Did you have to pick out the cheesiest one of the bunch?"

"Um, yeah. The Harry Potter hat is in my car if you want it," Danny chortled, ducking from Sean's slap. The Galaxy Starship Church sent all newly-ordained officiants a colorful maroon hat with silver stars. Sean had elected not to wear it.

"I think we'll leave it there," he grumbled good-naturedly. Time was slowly healing his wounds, and he found himself able to joke again. "You know Danny, there's something I need to ask you, before we start."

"C'mon Sean, everyone's waiting."

"It's important," Sean said, brows furrowing seriously.

"Okay, what." Danny was a bit concerned.

"I need to ask you ... can you leave them behind?"

"Leave what behind."

"The collies."

Danny's jawed dropped, then he caught Sean in a hammer lock. "Dammit, Mulcahy! You are such an ass!"

NYNYNYNYNYNY

Lindsay Monroe marched down the aisle on the arm of her father, glowing in a simple ivory sheath. Danny, nerves a distant memory, waiting impatiently for his bride. 

Lindsay's mouth formed the words for the vows, but they passed in a blur. She only saw his blue eyes as they bored into hers. 

"I do," she murmured. Guests strained to hear.

"I do," Danny answered.

"By the power invested in me by the State of New York ... and the Galaxy Starship Church ... now pronounce you husband and wife."

The two embraced, their love felt by all around them and above. Sean smiled. Somehow he knew Celeste was watching.

**THE END**


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